CM Punk ABC Challenge
by StarSixtyNine
Summary: Punk/OC. Approximately 6,000 words. Focuses on moments between CM Punk and an OC. Oneshot.


**I've been wanting to do the ABC Challenge for the longest time and I haven't really had the time or the heart to do it. As it happens, someone's birthday has come and gone, so this is dedicated to them. The OC is unnamed, as always. Sometimes they're friends, sometimes they're lovers. Sometimes he's referred to as Punk and other times he's referred to as Phil. You get the drift. There's brief moments of sexual content, but nothing you can't handle. Hope you like.**

...

**A – Awake**

Punk lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The bed covers were draped over his waist and his girlfriend was draped over the rest of his chest. He didn't know why he couldn't sleep, insomnia has always been something that plagued him.

He drew lazy circles along her shoulder as he continued to stare at the stucco ceiling, nothing particular on his mind.

_Smack_!

Punk hissed as his girl's palm made harsh contact with his naked chest.

"Stop that," she mumbled tiredly, shifting a little. "And go to sleep."

**B – Bruise**

She winced slightly as a bag of ice made contact with her lower back. "Punk," she whined.

"Stop. You shouldn't have taken that bump tonight," he murmured as he finished settling the bag on her back.

"What are you talking about, it was a normal back bump," she defended herself against her friend.

"On the floor," Punk finished dryly for her. "You're a tiny little thing, you can't take that kind of damage and you know it." He picked the bag up to see the black and purple bruise making its presence known on the small of her back.

"Well, I did." She shrugged gently and had to sigh in relief when he took the ice off of her back.

"You want me to put the ice in a towel?" He offered.

"Please."

He nodded and pushed himself off of the bed to go and retrieve a towel from the hotel bathroom. He found himself in this position a lot, taking care of her that is. He didn't mind it, she was his friend, but he didn't know how he was going to drill into her head the fact she was not impervious to pain.

**C – Christmas**

"No. Okay? No."

"Phil, come on."

"No, woman!"

He growled in frustration as he stormed into the kitchen to pull a Red Bull out of the refrigerator. He slammed the door behind him and leaned against the counter. His girlfriend was in the doorway, leaning against the thresh hold and eyeing him with a smirk.

"Why not?"

"Because, I hate Christmas. Why would I let you buy me a gift for a holiday that I can't stand?"

"Um, because I'm your girlfriend and want to do something nice for you?" She scoffed. "It's our first Christmas together and I want it to mean something?"

"Our first Halloween meant something to me. Christmas? Not so much," Phil shot off without thinking, and immediately regretted it afterwards. Man, if looks could kill…

"You know what? Fine." She turned on her heel and made her way to his room.

Great. Now she was upset. "Babe…" he groaned as he went to follow after her. "Look, I'll buy you a bracelet or something. Will that make you feel better?"

Without warning, she turned sharply on her heel to face him, poking him in the chest. "Now, you listen. There is an entertainment system in my trunk that I'm going to bring in here after you go to sleep and wrap real nice. Then I'm gonna put it under the tree that I had to _make_ you buy. And next week on Christmas, you're going to unwrap the shit and you're going to _love it_. You got me?" She eyed him for a few moments before turning and heading to his room, slamming the door behind her.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself. Well damn it, "can I have the damn thing now, then?"

"_No_!"

**D – Darkness**

She laughed softly as Phil nipped at her bottom lip gently, running her hands up and down his back. The snowstorm had knocked out the power some time ago, and this was Phil's way and letting the time pass by without television. Clever man he is.

"_Power's out, which means we can't use the heater…gotta generate body heat somehow,_" he said right before he all but pounced on her.

Now she was without a bra underneath him, and he was making quick work of slipping her sweatpants from her hips.

As his hands slid down her smooth thighs, she couldn't help but let out a soft sigh. The room was pitch black and she couldn't see anything, just feel and for whatever reason, since the sense of sight was taken away from them, the touches felt all the more intense.

She had to giggle a little as she felt him kiss the inside of her ankle after he'd gotten her sweats off, before he lowered himself back on top of her. He kissed her deeply and as he pushed himself into her, she threw her head back and was thankful for this little power outage.

**E – Europe**

"Do you have to go?" She asked into Punk's chest as she hugged him.

"Unfortunately." He kissed the top of her head. "You know I don't want to leave you."

"But you're gonna." She pouted.

"It's only two weeks, babe," he assured her. The Raw brand was embarking on a two week long European tour, and his girlfriend wasn't happy about it. He wasn't either, but work was work. "I promise, when I get back, all of my attention will be devoted to you."

"Punk! Come on!" Kofi shouted as he walked towards the terminal with his bag slung over his shoulder.

Punk rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss her gently before disentangling himself from her embrace. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

**F – Flowers**

Phil Brooks was not the kind of guy to go out and buy a girl a bouquet of flowers. But here he was, standing in front of her apartment door with a dozen red roses, looking uncomfortable as hell.

He reached forward with his free hand and knocked on the door. It opened seconds later.

"What?" She asked. It was as if she knew that he was on the other side of the door already. She eyed the roses in his hand suspiciously.

"I… sorry." He thrust the bouquet towards her. She remained still. "Take them," he urged.

"You can't just buy me roses and expect things to be better, Phil," she told him, very unimpressed. "What you did was wrong."

"I don't even _know_ what I did," Phil answered her, exasperated. That was the truth. Every time he asked her, she got upset and told him that it was something that he should have already known. Women are complicated creatures. "Look. I love you. A lot," that was the first time he said it to her, and he didn't notice the look of shock that had come across her face. "I don't know what the fuck I did, I will probably never know what I did, but I'm trying to fix it the best way I know how. Now will you please take these damn things and let me take you out for dinner?"

Silence.

Phil let out a low groan and was about to tell her to forget it when she kissed him, and he pressed his free hand to her lower back to bring her closer to him. After a moment, they pulled away and she took the flowers from him.

"Let me get my coat."

**G – Game**

"Punk, this isn't fun anymore!" She called out, and let out a sigh when she got no response in return.

On the way to the city for the next taping of _Raw_, Punk had gotten the bright idea to pull over to the side of the road and challenge her to a game of tag in the wooded area off to the side of the road… at two in the morning.

"What are you, chicken?" He'd teased her.

"Fuck you, man," she quipped back easily.

It was stupid, but she wasn't one to turn down a challenge and she had numb-butt anyway.

Thirty minutes later, she was standing in the middle of the woods, her boots were dusted with dirt and leaves, and she couldn't see a damn thing. Including Punk.

"Okay, seriously, I'm going to walk back to the car now, I don't like this." She shook her head and turned on her heel to head back up the small, steep hill to the road. A pair of arms encircled her waist, and she shrieked loudly. "Oh God! I don't have any money on me! Please don't kill me!"

A hand came up to cover her mouth, and she felt warm breath by her ear. "…you don't really think I'd kill you, do ya… chicken?" Punk teased her. "By the way, tag… you're it."

**H – Heels**

"Phil, I really can't walk in these things." She laughed pitifully as she clutched onto his arm to prevent herself from falling flat on her face. Jesus. What made her want to test out four inch heels, she'd never know. So much for trying to be a "girly girl."

"I told you to wear flats or something." He snorted. "We haven't even made it out of the drive way."

She glanced up at him pitifully. "Can we please go back in the house so I can get some normal shoes?"

He sighed heavily, though it was for show. "Fine. Hurry up," he teased her. "He knew damn well that she couldn't 'hurry' up in those death traps women called shoes.

"Ha ha," she laughed sarcastically, staring to walk, literally, on the tips of her toes to get back into the house.

"Move it, girl, move it!" Phil barked at her, swatting her ass playfully.

"Okay, you know what?" She shook her head and knelt down to take off the heels, while Phil looked on in confusion. She stood back to her full height and gave him a small smirk, raising the shoe threateningly at him. "Run, Brooks."

**I – Icicles**

"It's freezing out here, geez." She frowned and put her arms around herself. She could see her breath in front of her as she spoke.

"Winter time, darling." Phil chuckled as he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in closer to him. "I told you to put more clothes on."

"Shut up," she grumbled. "I don't know why you would want to walk to the store in this kind of weather anyway. Idiot. You could have driven."

"You're right, I could have. But I don't like to waste gas."

She looked up at him incredulously. "It's 26 degrees out here! Waste your gas and turn on the damned heat! Fucking icicles forming on houses and trees and shit…"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch, that's all you ever do." Phil laughed good-naturedly. "We're a block away from the hotel. Can you handle that, Princess?"

"Nope." She pouted pitifully. "Icicles… fucking icicles out here! And you want to walk to the damn store…"

**J – Jealousy**

"You're being ridiculous, Phil." She rolled her eyes as she made her way into the bathroom with him hot on her heels.

"I'm not being ridiculous, he was all over you." He protested, leaning against the doorframe and watching her as she brushed her hair back into a ponytail.

"What do you care?" She laughed slightly, inspecting her reflection in the large mirror. "You're my friend, not my boyfriend."

"Yeah, well maybe…" He bit his tongue, looking at her in the mirror.

"Maybe what?" She arched a brow, looking back at him.

"Maybe I just care about you, alright?" He sighed, glad that he didn't let his mouth get him into trouble… again. "That guy was a scumbag, plain and simple. I'd fuck him up if he messed with you."

"Aw, Punk." She walked over to him and patted his cheek. "If only you were my big brother, then you could really scare them away, eh?" She snorted before walking into the bedroom, getting comfortable on her bed.

"Yeah…" He closed his eyes. "If only. I'm gonna go. I'll see you later."

**K – Keyboard**

_Click, clack, click, click…_

"Do you have to type so loudly?" Punk complained, looking over at his friend who was currently typing furiously away on her laptop.

"It's not even loud," she told him passively, her eyes never leaving her computer screen.

"I'm trying to watch _American Horror Story_ and I can't concentrate because you feel the need to abuse your computer. It didn't do anything to you," he teased her.

"Shut up." She blushed, now embarrassed. She knew she typed fast, but did she type fast and loud?

"You," he countered lamely before looking back at the television and sucking on his teeth. "See what you did! You made me miss my show!"

"I didn't _make _you do anything." She snorted as she stopped typing to look up at him. "I'm sure there's going to be repeats of the same episode, calm down."

"It's not the same," he complained. "Now everyone will be talking about it on the Internet and they'll spoil the show for me before I get to watch it."

"You sound like such a whiny bitch right about now." She laughed. "Fine, I am sorry for ruining your precious show. Are you happy now?"

"Never." He reached over to her laptops track pad, exiting out of the application on her computer.

"Hey! I didn't get to save that!"

He put an arm around her shoulders with a slight grin on his face as he looked at the program guide on his television. "And now we both get to sulk."you do anything." ykdn

**L – Laziness**

He opened his eyes and looked over to his left to his bedside table. It was two in the afternoon on a Saturday and he was in his own bed, relaxing with his girlfriend who was sleeping peacefully on his chest. He didn't have any appearances, shows or signings. Of course, that was all subject to change at any moment with the mercurial moods of his boss, but for now he was going to enjoy this Saturday afternoon being... lazy. He kissed the top of his girlfriend's head and shifted underneath her a little before closing his eyes for another nap.

**M – Marriage**

"_I don't know why you'd want to get married but if you want to get divorced, that's the way to do it."_

A lot of people think that it's CM Punk that's talking when he says that, but honestly, it's Phil Brooks. He's one of the people who think that you don't need a piece of paper to prove to someone that you love them.

That's why when his girlfriend asked him about his views on marriage, he immediately tensed. This was not going to go well. Every single woman that's asked him this has broken up with him.

"Um, you know… it's no big deal…" he told her sheepishly.

She eyed him oddly. "What do you mean it's no big deal?"

"I mean… fuck." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "That's not what I'm looking for, if that's what you're asking." At her arched brow, he rolled his eyes. "Go ahead, tell me that I'm going to end up miserable and alone, and it's sad because you thought that I really was _the one_."

The only sad thing about it was, he really loved this girl. For have her leave over bullshit… oh well. They didn't want the same things, and they both had to respect that.

After a few moments of silence, she threw her arms around his neck. "Thank God!"

What?

"What do you mean?" He asked, his tone very confused.

"Punk, I'm not into the whole marriage thing. I'm cool with just being together forever, but I don't think I'd make a good wife. I mean… look at the kitchen. I'm not cleanin' that."

He gave her a lopsided grin and leaned down to give her a kiss.

Thank God.

**N – Nail Polish**

"Punk, that stuff stinks." She frowned as she pinched her nostrils close.

"I don't know why you're complaining, it's your nail polish." He chuckled as he used the nail brush to paint a streak of black on his nails. "Fancy nail polish, too. _Chanel_."

"It's called quality nail polish." She shrugged as she took a seat on the floor.

"It's called 25 bucks for something you can get for a dollar at the drugstore," he shot back easily at his friend with a laugh.

"Yeah well, I didn't ask you."

"Quiet, or I'll take your fancy-shmancy polish home with me."

She snorted so hard that she hurt herself. "Yeah, over _your_ dead body."

**O – Omelet**

"I just wanted to surprise you with breakfast…" She pouted up at him as Phil put the fire extinguisher down on the floor. She sat down at the kitchen table, looking dejected.

"You surprised me alright." He chuckled sleepily as he nudged the extinguisher to the side of the counter with his foot. Her screaming for him at 6:30 in the morning was a shock. Her screaming '_THERE'S A FIRE!'_ was definitely a surprise, a surprise that had him shooting up out of bed and almost falling down the stairs to see her throwing water at the fire, which only made it grow. He didn't know why she didn't grab the fire extinguisher, but anyway…

"That's not funny."

He looked over at her and walked over, grabbing her around the waist and picking her up to stand to her feet. "Okay, okay. What were you trying to make, anyway?"

"A veggie omelet with sausage on the side. Your favorite. It's just that when the eggs are that thin, they cook very quickly, and the next thing I knew… _POOF_, there was a fire! I'm terrible. Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." She covered her face with her hands.

The laugh that came out of Phil was deep and rumbled in his chest. "You're not terrible, you're very sweet and I thank you for thinking of me at times that the sun is not up." He pried her hands away from her face to give her a soft kiss on the lips. "How about we go grab a shower and I'll take you out for breakfast," he offered.

"_A _shower?"

"Yes. You're comin' with me." He chuckled and threw her over his shoulder, heading for the stairs.

**P – Panties**

She shivered slightly as she felt Phil's cold hands run down her sides, a stark contrast from her hot skin. She threaded her fingers through his hair and let out a short, soft moan as she felt him kiss down her stomach.

He placed a kiss on each of her hipbones before stopping for a moment to trace the intricate designs of her black lace thong with one of his tattooed fingers. He started to place kisses over her lower abdomen. "You went shopping."

She let out a coy smile. "For you, baby."

"I like these…" he murmured against her skin, pulling away to look at them before he moved them aside to slip a finger inside of her, loving the sharp intake of breath that he heard her take. "I'll have to get you another pair," he said before ripping them from her legs unceremoniously.

She looked down at him with a frown. "Phil…," she admonished him.

"Shh… forgive me." He gave her a wolfish grin before leaning forward to kiss her intimately…

She did.

**Q – Quality**

"Quality fuckin' comics right here." Phil grinned giddily as he walked up to his friend with a bag from the local comic store. "I won't even complain on this flight."

"So you'll complain when we get off of the plane?" She rolled her eyes as she browsed the Internet on her phone.

"It's possible." He shrugged and plopped down next to her. "Y'know, most of this stuff isn't even in print anymore, and I got them for almost nothing!"

"Good for you, Phil," she said dryly. As he babbled on about some comic book that went out of print in the 1980s, she threw in the occasional "mhm" or "oh, nice" while checking her Twitter.

What? He did it to her.

**R – Rumor**

"I fuckin' hate dirtsheets," Phil grumbled and pushed his iPhone away from him roughly before resting his head on his girlfriend's lap.

"What now?" She asked as she rested her arm across his chest, flipping through the small variety of the hotel's channels with her free hand.

"It's just… ridiculous. The God damned rumors, the false accusations, all of that shit. It's tough to deal with sometimes."

"I thought you didn't care about dirt sheets," she mused.

"I don't," he told her quickly. "It's just… ack. Shut up," he muttered.

She laughed a little and reached down to thread her fingers through his hair. "Forget the dirt sheets. You know the truth about the shit that they're talking about, Vince knows the truth, and that's all that matters. Now get up, my leg is falling asleep."

**S – Sick**

Punk already had the reputation of being an asshole, and that was on a good day. Factor in him being sick, and that was a whole new ball game.

She made it a point to stay away from him. He might sneeze on her if she pissed him off, and she didn't want to have to hurt him. He got meaner, crabbier and all around not a fun person to deal with. Seeing as how he didn't take drugs unless they were prescribed, he never took medicine to ebb his symptoms. "I'm not a pussy, I'll just ride this cold out. Now leave me the fuck alone," he'd say.

Her phone rang, and she answered it. "Hello?"

The congested and nasally voice of Phil came through on the other end of the line after a few unflattering coughs filled her ears, "Baby, come and see me… I'm miserable."

He only called her 'baby' if he was sick and wanted something.

"What's new about that?" She teased him gently while getting up to put her shoes on.

"Fuck you, I just want tea. Be a pal."

"Well I don't know, since you're using such coarse language with me, Punk."

"I'm _sorry,_ now _please_ get to my room. Lemon tea, please." He coughed again, before hanging up on her.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed a few dollars out of her wallet. She'd have to make a stop to the hotel store downstairs to get some hot water and a few packets of lemon tea, along with a pack of throat drops.

"The things I do for that man, I swear…" she said to no one in particular before heading out of her room.

**T – Toddler**

"…what is that?" Phil asked.

"A two year old boy. He's my nephew." She laughed lightly as she shifted the toddler in her arms. "Say hi to Punk, baby."

"Hi Punk baby," the small boy waved before sticking his thumb in his mouth, resting his head on his aunt's shoulder.

Phil had to snort. _Punk baby_. Nice.

"I'm not good with kids," he told her as he watched the little boy intently. Kids scared the hell out of him. "What if he has to like… shit and stuff?"

"Watch your mouth, and if he has to go to the bathroom, he'll tell you." She laughed a little. "And you just take him to the bathroom and let him do his business."

"You'll be around for that, right?"

"Maaaybe." She laughed. "But for now, I gotta put him down, because he's exhausted."

"Nap," the boy yawned.

"Yes, nap." She laughed a little before going into the living room to sit on the couch, laying him down. "…Uncle Punk," she teased him.

"Shut up," he grumbled, going into the kitchen.

**U – Umbrella**

"Only you would forget to bring an umbrella out on a day that you knew it was supposed to rain." She sighed as she stood under the awning of a building, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"Umbrellas are for losers." Punk shrugged.

"I thought luck was for losers."

"Yeah well, now umbrellas are for losers," he grumbled, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Face it, you would have gotten wet anyway," he said as he looked out from under the awning, watching the heavy rain fall from the sky and hit the ground. "Besides, I could be all romantic and kiss you in the rain."

"Move." She rolled her eyes, shoving him away from her.

"What?" Punk grinned, wrapping his arms around her waist now. "Chicks love that stuff."

"Well this chick loves to be dry." She arched an eyebrow. "Dry and warm."

"I like you when you're wet." He waggled his brows suggestively at her, causing her to blush.

"Punk," she admonished him. "Stop it."

"Okay, okay." He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "There's a hotel across the street. Maybe they've got umbrellas in their little gift shop or something."

She was silent for a moment. "You mean we've been standing out here in this frigid weather while we could have been inside?"

Phil shrugged. "Late thinking."

"Loser."

**V – Vanilla**

"You are so boring," she snorted as she took a bite out of her cookies and cream ice cream. "Vanilla ice cream? You couldn't have gotten like… butter pecan?"

"For your information, I happen to like vanilla ice cream just fine." Phil scoffed. "What are you, the ice cream police?"

"That's exactly what I am," she said teasingly. She held a spoonful of her ice cream to his lips. "C'mon, try it."

Phil backed away from her, shaking his head with playful glint in his eyes. "Get those additional carbs away from me."

"You are such a chick."

"I'm a wrestler," he corrected her. "Gotta stay sexy for the ladies."

"Tell me you didn't just say that." She laughed.

"Oh, but I did." He gave her a cheesy grin, sticking a spoonful of vanilla ice cream in his mouth. "Don't you get it, babe? I'm, like, a sex symbol or whatever. Gotta stay fit."

"Shut up." She shook her head with a small laugh. "Just… shut up."

**W – Weekend**

Phil couldn't remember when he last had a weekend off to do as he pleased. For him, a "day off" usually constituted as doing media all day, traveling off to some far country to make appearance, and so on. Don't get him wrong, he loved his job. He actually didn't know if he really wanted a real day off, where he could sit around and do nothing until Monday, but that didn't mean that he didn't miss his home or his friends… or his sanity.

Luckily, he had a friend other than Cabana to occupy his time while he was on the road. No, not like _that_, she was someone that he could actually have a conversation with – be it on politics, the media or the latest episode of his favorite TV show. She was probably the reason that he didn't totally shut down during his time on the road, because he legitimately enjoyed her company.

That doesn't mean he didn't miss home, though.

**X – X-Ray**

"What are you getting X-Rays for, Punk?" She asked curiously as she watched him slip his jeans on.

"My hand," he answered her simply. He really didn't want to talk about it.

"What's wrong with your hand?" She pressed, and pulled the covers further up her naked chest.

_Damn it_, he thought. He was really hoping that she'd be asleep, so he would have been able to avoid this kind of interrogation. "I landed a stiff punch a few nights ago and my hand's a little jacked up. I'm sure it's nothing major."

"You messed your hand up?" She gaped. "Why didn't you tell me, I would have never—ugh, my God!"

Shaking his head, he walked over to her to kiss her lightly. "You did nothing. What we did last night was fine, alright? I'm sure they'll tell me to wrap my hand up a little more when I go out to the ring and just ice it down. There's _nothing_ to worry about, okay?"

She sighed heavily. "Fine."

"Good. Now take your cute butt to sleep. I'll be back in a few hours."

**Y – Yellow**

"These have got to be the most obnoxious things I've ever seen," Phil laughed, holding out a pair of yellow spanks that she had to wear to the ring that night.

"Shut up," she growled and snatched the bottoms away from him. "And stay out of my bag."

"Touchy," he teased. "I'm just asking why they have to be so bright."

"Because I want them to be this bright, now go away." She groaned, taking out the black halter-top that was to go with the spanks.

"You never wear anything like that for me."

"You're right; I wear them for my boyfriend."

"Yeah yeah," Phil was the one that grumbled this time.

"Touchy," she teased him, repeating what he said before looking back to her bag to search for her wrestling boots.

Rolling his eyes and taking advantage of her not paying attention to him, he gave her a hard shot across the ass as he made his way out of her room, laughing as he heard her hiss in pain. "That'll teach you to mock me, brat."

**Z – Ziploc**

She sent him a little bag of cookies for the holidays.

They hadn't spoken to each other in about six months, mainly because they broke up and he told her to fuck off, and she still thought enough of him to send him _anything_ for the holidays.

There were times that Phil felt like shit, and this was one of those times. No, he didn't really eat cookies because of the way he liked his body to look, but the fact of the matter is that she was still thinking about him. He thought about her, too.

If he could have done things differently, then he would have. She really was a sweet girl, and he felt that she didn't need a douchebag like him in her life, so he broke up with her and that he never wanted to see her again. Man, if he could go back in time…

Setting the holiday-themed Ziploc bag on his kitchen table, he pulled out his iPhone to scroll through his address book. He'd never gotten rid of her number. Call him stupid, but he'd told himself that he was going to call her one day and apologize, but he thought that she'd never want to hear his voice again.

Tapping her name on the screen, he waited for her to answer her phone. After about six rings, he was directed to her voicemail inbox.

After hearing the signal for him to start talking, he took a deep breath. "Um, hey. It's me. I just wanted to say… thanks for the cookies. …and I'm sorry."

He pulled the phone away from his ear to prevent himself from pouring out his regrets on her answering machine. He hit the number one on his cell phone before ending the call and going on about his day.

When she got the message notification on her phone, the screen would read: _Urgent Voice Message From: Phil._

_... _

**This was long. Lol. I had fun writing it, though. Reviews are always appreciated.**


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